Hail Mary
by imskysmom
Summary: Dr. Weir is away and Sheppard and McKay have found a new toy what could possibly go wrong? COMPLETE
1. Perchance to Dream?

Title: **Hail Mary**  
Author: imskysmom  
Author's e-mail: Feedback: yes please but flames will be incinerated  
Archive: SGAHC, Atlantis GenGate, Fanfiction, Wraithbait, anyone else please ask first  
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis  
Category: Gen  
Rating: T  
Pairing: None  
Summary: Weir's gone and Sheppard and McKay find a new toy - what could possibly go wrong?  
Beta: Tammy and Goo (Queen of the Hardasses)  
Season/Episode: Season One  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the rights to "Stargate: Atlantis" or the characters but they're sure fun to play with weg  
Author's notes: Any mistakes are all mine and are on purpose anyway – so there!

Part One – Perchance to Dream?

The wormhole window collapsed as Major John Sheppard stood watching, arms clasped behind his back.

"Is she gone?"

Sheppard glanced up at the question. McKay stood on the balcony, hands clamped on the railing, peering down anxiously. Looking to see whose ears might be listening, Sheppard moved quickly to stand beside McKay.

"A little louder, Rodney, she might not have heard on the other side of the wormhole." The words were spoken out the side of Sheppard's mouth as he continued to gaze out over the gate room, nodding to a passing tech. "Try and have a little dignity." Stung, McKay's shoulders straightened.

"I'm just saying I doubt whether Elizabeth would really agree with the use we're making of limited resources, Mr. Cool!" This time Sheppard did look at him, the dark eyebrows arched in sardonic disbelief as he silently repeated, 'Mr. Cool.' McKay scowled, ears reddening.

"Just calm down, Rodney, it's all going to work out fine." The Canadian scientist glared at him.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this? Oh yes, it's because you threatened to blackmail me over a perfectly innocent conversation I had with Beckett." McKay snapped his mouth shut and hastily glanced around checking for anyone who might have overheard.

"If it was so innocent, then why are you letting me blackmail you?" The major's gaze had once again been transferred to the activity in the gate room.

"It only sounds bad when you take it out of context!" McKay's tone was a cross between whinging and defensive. Sheppard snorted.

"If you can come up with a context for "space bimbos with big tits" that does NOT sound bad, you're as smart as you think you are," and he clapped McKay on the shoulder.

"Let's just get this over with so I can get back to my work, all right?" snapped McKay striding off rapidly down the hallway toward the transporter. Sheppard took one last survey of the busy Atlantis personnel and followed. They exited the transporter in a remote part of the city that Sheppard had stumbled across recently. McKay moved swiftly, nose wrinkled at the musty, dank smell of the abandoned section of the city, laptop clutched tightly under one arm.

"I don't have all day, Major," he called over one shoulder without turning around. Sheppard blinked where he'd been standing in the doorway of one of the empty rooms and jogged to catch up.

"C'mon, Rodney, this'll be fun!" The scientist stopped and spun around so abruptly Sheppard didn't have time to slow and ended standing nose to nose with McKay. The smaller man didn't back up, but instead thrust one finger in the scant inches between their faces.

"Fun? FUN? Oh absolutely, wasting the morning in a smelly, damp part of the city with no heat, partial lighting and being exposed to toxic black mildew, all so you can relive your high school glory years as a geek-baiting jock and experience a wet dream involving steroid addicted oversized grunts is NOT what I consider FUN." He glared at the major to emphasize his point, and then spinning on his heel, continued towards the room containing the device the major had discovered. "Not to mention losing valuable time I could be working on genuinely valuable technology," he continued grousing.

This was going to be so good for Rodney, Sheppard thought, a satisfied grin on his face.

The room was empty except for a strange contraption that looked vaguely like a modern plastic statue involving five exercise bike frames, handlebars all meeting to make a quadrangle and handgrips carefully delineated. In the center was what Sheppard had assumed was a control panel that roughly resembled the DHD in the 'gate room, but with only one large crystal panel on each of the five sides of the quadrangle, and a single crystal panel in the middle.

McKay moved to an access panel between two of the strange seats and after clipping several wires to the internal workings of the device, held out his hand toward Sheppard without looking up. Sheppard looked down at McKay's outstretched hand, which almost immediately began snapping agitatedly. Belatedly the major realized what he needed, and handed the football DVD over.

"Leave it to you, Major, to find the Ancients version of a Gold's Gym," griped McKay, as the Canadian gave first the DVD, then Sheppard a look of utmost contempt, and then inserted it into his laptop's CD/DVD drive, then continued complaining. "Dragging me down here when I could be doing 'real work.' And don't imagine for one second I have any intention of staying to participate in your ET aerobic session." Sheppard regarded him with an expression of bemused tolerance.

"What are you babbling about now, Rodney?"

The scientist just snorted and rolled his eyes."Obviously this was used as some sort of exercise room, Major. "I shudder to think of what kind of sexual gymnastics you might be imagining. Somehow I DON'T think that was the design intent."

Sheppard just smirked, then looked around as the drive whirred and clicked. "Shouldn't something be happening?" McKay sighed and rolled his eyes, pointing first at John, then at the exercycle nearest him. As he moved to climb on, Sheppard noticed for the first time there was a visor clipped to the side of the panel by each exercycle, a cord running down into the center panel. He unhooked it and held it up to McKay, one eyebrow questioning.

"Think it's safe?"

Sheppard would have sworn McKay couldn't look anymore exasperated, but somehow the Canadian rose to the occasion.

"Obviously that is something I have no way of knowing," he said, seeming to puff like a little banty rooster. Sheppard waved a hand, climbed gingerly onto the exercycle seat and carefully fitted the visor over his eyes. Gasping, he snatched the visor back off his face almost immediately and McKay looked frightened.

"I knew this was a bad idea! Are you blind? Can you see? Are you all right, Major," he blurted out, starting to his feet, laptop sliding to clatter onto the metal floor. Sheppard just goggled at him for a moment, then looked back at the device in his hand.

"Rodney, this is unbelievable! You HAVE to try this!"

McKay plopped down hard onto his butt, clutching his shirt over his heart. "Good God, Major, are you trying to kill me?"

Sheppard was far too excited to pay any attention to the melodramatics. He grabbed McKay by the arm and dragged him up and over to the closest exercycle. Quickly grabbing the visor and clapping it over McKay's eyes, Sheppard ignored the man's vehement protestations, which stilled immediately, just as he'd expected. There was a moment of stunned silence before McKay exploded off the seat, hands scrabbling frantically to rip the visor off as he shrieked wordlessly and stood gasping, staring down at the object and then at the major.

"Tha-tha-that's incredible," he stuttered. The initial look of panicky concern was fading and a slow, delighted smile was spreading across the major's face.

"It's great, isn't it!" he exulted, "even better than I hoped for! You were right there in the game, weren't you!" McKay's eyes were still slightly bugged out, staring down at the visor held tightly in his hand.

"This makes the virtual reality games on Earth look like an Atari system," McKay said in an awed tone. He looked back up at Sheppard. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yes! It means that I get to play football with my favorite team! Do you know if anybody else brought DVDs? Just think about it, Rodney… Have you heard about Simonson's nude volleyball collection?" There was a slightly lascivious look on the major's face that McKay waved off irritably.

"Oh please, enough with the porno frat boy thoughts," McKay said dismissively. "Oh please. Don't TELL me you're still doing "Debbie Does Dallas? Maybe when you're all grown up Radek will loan you his Best of the Czechs collection. Now THAT really holds your attention!" McKay got a dreamy look on his face, and a bit more than that elsewhere. Just as Sheppard was about to leave him alone with his laptop, he shook himself like a dog. "But that's nothing. Juvenile. Just think of how this could be adapted for training sessions! The realism .. . the . . .the . . . the applications! They're just endless!"

The smile on John Sheppard's face grew thoughtful. "Radek has been holding out on me, huh? And what's wrong with Debbie Does Dallas, anyhow? It's got everything?"

McKay snorted dismissively. "If that's all you've got, it'll do, but personally I prefer something with a little more …" he waved a hand wordlessly. Sheppard's grin grew wider.

"Plot?" he supplied helpfully and McKay scowled.

"Acting!"

"What do you mean more acting? You thought those orgasms were REAL? Rodney, they must have faked at least fifty percent of those come shots! But I can see it's all about the performance for you," said Sheppard, smirking. "So let's test this out and see how it works when we're both in it." Visibly hesitant, McKay wavered.

"We really should wait to do this until we have someone else monitoring our vitals," he said, the protest sounding weak and unconvincing to both of them.

"C'mon, Rodney. You will never be as safe as you are in a VR! Nothing can hurt you! You can even be the quarterback…," Sheppard said, a wheedling tone in his voice.

McKay's eyes lit up. "Really, because you know, Canadians generally play REAL football, what you Americans refer to as soccer," he said dismissively, "but I always thought I would have had a really good arm for it; I always had excellent aim, but even in baseball no one would ever pick me …," and his voice trailed off.

Sheppard interrupted hurriedly, "I'll bet you have an arm like a cannon and here's your big shot!" None too gently he guided the visor back over McKay's eyes and helped hoist him back up into the exercycle seat. Rushing back around to his side, he pulled his own visor back in place to see…, nothing. Frowning with disappointment, he pulled it down and looked over at McKay, hands firmly clamped on the handlebars, head turning from side to side like a bizarre Stevie Wonder negative.

"Rodney, it's not working over here," he said, not quite able to quell the whine. "Rodney!"

"Try, ummmm," and McKay ducked something and raised his arms in the air.

"McKay!"

"Try depressing the center crystal." Reaching over his own handlebars, Sheppard pressed down on the large center panel and then hopefully gazed into his visor again. The sights of the game exploded into his vision, surrounding him completely, and he looked around, trying to see McKay. After a second Sheppard spotted him when a huge linebacker moved slightly to one side. He had just run through the paper flame arch and was standing with the team waving to the roaring crowd. The smile on his face was so huge it looked like his head was going to split open. Sheppard jogged over to him, trying not to laugh.

"So you know those pants make your butt look big," he said, flicking a piece of grass off his own shining helmet. McKay immediately looked over one shoulder, an anxious expression on his face before he glared at Sheppard.

"Oh that is nice!"

Sheppard grinned and slapped him on the back, knocking him slightly forward. "Just having some fun with you, Rodney!" But before he could say anything else, the refs blew the whistles, and the game was on. Trotting out onto the field and lining up for the scrimmage, McKay looked a little pale, but Sheppard kept reminding him it was all virtual reality. As they bent down for the scrimmage, the major thought he actually heard McKay chanting, 'virtual reality, virtual reality,' as he squared off against a hulking receiver a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier.

After the snap, Sheppard couldn't hear anything anymore. He remembered what seemed to have been a flashing 360 degree view of the field; likely because what seemed like his own personal mini-van had hit him so hard he'd completely flipped in the air before landing, face down on the ground, his nose pressed into the grass and someone's knees pressed into his kidneys. When the last elephantine player got off of him, Sheppard had slowly levered himself off the turf, scraping dirt and grass off his tongue.

"Thank God this is college ball," he muttered to himself.

When he caught sight of McKay, there was absolute terror on his face, or what was visible of his face beneath the mud smeared on it. Sheppard repeatedly tried to make his way over to him, but somehow the players shifted him back to his position, and they were once again lined up. It became a long, ugly, painful bad nightmare of crushing hits and slapped bottoms and he cursed himself for convincing McKay to not wait for someone to monitor them. No matter how firmly he :thought: himself out of the game, nothing ever shifted.

Sheppard thought he'd never been more relieved to hear the buzzer calling the end of a game. In that last scrimmage he'd been hit so hard his ears were still ringing; it had taken several minutes before he could distinguish up from down enough to stand and he'd wondered for a disoriented moment if he'd accidentally wandered into a recording of a boxing match. As he dizzily hobbled over to where McKay lay flat on his back on the turf, blood trickling from a split on his lip, he realized his helmet had actually been knocked off his head in that last encounter.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm in hell, Major," was the terse reply.

"Yeah, well, I'm right there with you. Are we stuck in here forever?" It was a moment before McKay answered.

"I think when the DVD ends we should be released…" and abruptly they were staring at each other across the handlebars and crystal panel. They both leaped off the seats, tearing off the visors, but at the first step, both men groaned, Sheppard's hand going to his head, and McKay's to his side.

"I thought you said…."

"We shouldn't be hurt…."

They stared at each other in horror. McKay's hands touched his throbbing lip gingerly and he hissed at the sharp biting pain.


	2. It Was All a Dream NOT

Part Two – It Was All a Dream – NOT!

"Am I bleeding? I must be bleeding! Does it need stitches?" And he stared at disbelief at the clean hand he'd been carefully feeling his lip with.

"There's not a mark on you," said Sheppard slowly. He looked down at himself a little self-consciously, brushing his hand casually through his hair and then checking for blood. Nothing. He leaned against the wall and slid down, feeling a little dizzy. McKay was studying his hands with incredulity.

"Not even a cleat mark," he said, amazement warring with annoyance. Sheppard's forehead was against his knees, and he was taking deep breaths and trying to convince himself the room was not tilting and spinning and he really didn't feel an overwhelming need to vomit. Looking back up at McKay, he rested his head against the slick metal wall. Even his scalp hurt.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like crap," Sheppard said, his voice flat. McKay had also sat down, slumping against the wall, his hand held protectively over his side, wincing. They sat in silence for a moment, considering the implications.

"This is just all in our heads then." It seemed so strange to hear the carefully shaped but still slurred words coming from McKay's undamaged lips, noticed Sheppard absently, feeling slightly like he was floating.

"How in the hell are we going to explain this to Beckett," he groaned. He could already see the incredulous expression on Beckett's face.

"Just be grateful it was your ridiculous football game; what if we'd had one of Simonson's grotesque porno flicks. It could have given us a virtual STD!"

Sheppard heard the first faint note of panic edging McKay's words and he raised his head from his knees. "You're fine, Rodney," he said, weighting his words with all the scorn he could, trying not to think about it himself. It didn't work.

"What if it's not just all in our heads?" McKay began wringing his hands, grimacing as he scrubbed invisible scrapes and grazes.

"The, the, the latest research on the impact of mental conditioning shows it can be every bit as dangerous as physical reality, and we've just experienced the most comprehensive brainwashing ever; this makes the Branch Davidians look like a self-esteem seminar!"

"Rodney!" the major growled. "Get a grip!"

McKay stared at him for a moment, hands still wrenching each other furiously, and then his mouth snapped shut and he looked away. The echo of Sheppard's bark died away and the major felt like his head was vibrating in time to the thudding of his heartbeat. The last time Sheppard's head had felt like this was at that Metallica concert he could only remember half of. He glanced down at his watch.

"Ok. Everybody should be at mess. Let's get back to our quarters and take some Tylenol. I could use a shower too." He glanced challengingly at McKay until the other man nodded reluctantly. Slowly, suppressing several moans and complaints from his protesting body, Sheppard stood and waited for the room to settle. Deciding it was as good as it was going to get, he limped over to offer a hand up to McKay. The scientist winced at the grasp, but stood beside Sheppard hunched over, clutching his ribs protectively. They made their cautious way back to the nearest transporter, their slow shuffling steps echoing dully down the long corridor. They were almost there when Sheppard remembered something.

"What about your laptop?"

McKay flapped a hand dismissively and concentrated on moving forward. "Later," was the terse response. Sheppard looked at McKay with concern. Beads of sweat dotted the Canadian's forehead and upper lip.

"You all right?"

"Just dandy," McKay ground out, his hand now a white knuckled fist in the fabric over his right side.

"Cause you know, you don't look so good," Sheppard continued. "You're even getting a little blue."

"While I appreciate you doing a General O'Neill impression to keep my mind off the piercing white hot pain in my side, Major, right now I just want to get back to my quarters," McKay responded through clenched teeth, gasping a little for breath. They got back with almost no witnesses. There was one close call when a tech waved from the end of the hall, but thankfully it looked like McKay's usual antisocial reputation came through to explain why they ignored him. The last few steps to McKay's quarters Sheppard was ready with a hand at McKay's elbow just in case the scientist faltered. He made it without Sheppard's help, though he collapsed, white and shaking on the rumpled unmade bed once through the door.

"You ok, Rodney?"

McKay glared up wordlessly at Sheppard, mouth thin with pain.

"Talk to me, ok?" said Sheppard, starting to get worried. "Just grunt or something so I know you're all right."

"First O'Neill and now Daniel Jackson! Will you just shut the hell up!" McKay snarled weakly, falling over onto his side on the bed and curling up in the fetal position.

"Isn't he the one that kept dying once a year?"

"Something like that."

Sheppard was feeling less than steller himself. That last play had ended with what felt like both teams piled on top of him. His head was swimming and he finally gave in to the need to rid himself of this mornings breakfast. The cool metal of the toilet felt marvelous against his forehead, and he leaned there for a moment, hoping desperately the effects of the Ancients device would wear off before he had to try and get up again.

"Are you still alive in there, or did you get sidetracked by your hair's reflection as you walked by the mirror?" The snide tone was a pale echo of McKay's usual sarcastic bite. Sighing, Sheppard levered himself to his feet, swallowing hard against the bile pushing up into the back of his throat. He washed his face and rinsed his mouth before lurching out of the tiny bathroom. McKay laid very still, hand holding his ribs, eyes tightly closed, carefully drawing in rapid shallow breaths. He spoke again without opening his eyes.

"Glad I didn't waste a Power Bar on you earlier."

"I figure we've got 45 minutes before we've got to pull it together." His throat was raspy and it hurt. One bleary blue eye fastened itself on him in disbelief.

"I think we're a little beyond just sucking it up, don't you, Major?"

Sheppard considered the chair beside McKay's bed, but cleaning the papers and dirty clothes off was too much effort, so he just shoved McKay's feet out of the way and laid down on the bed parking his boots beside McKay's face. When there was no snarky remark, he KNEW McKay must feel like shit.

"Maybe the effects will wear off if we just give it some time," he said.

When McKay didn't answer, Sheppard realized he'd gone to sleep. Maybe that's the answer, he thought, feeling a little drowsy. This will all be gone when we wake up.


	3. What Dreams May Come, and Bite You!

Part Three – What Dreams May Come, and Bite You on the Butt!

Ford moved down the hallway at his usual unhurried saunter. Halling strode at his side, smoothly keeping pace.

"So are you looking forward to your, date." Holling said the word carefully, as though he was tasting it. Ford looked at him, faintly alarmed.

"How did you know about that?"

"I apologize if it is a private matter," said Halling, looking concerned. "I saw Dr. Zelenka's assistant returning from a visit to the mainland and she told me she had found a new piece of apparel for your engagement."

"Engagement!" Ford heard himself yelp and stopped dead in the hallway. "Halling, what exactly did Cherri say?" Halling frowned in concentration.

"That she had 'traded for a new skirt for her date with Aiden,'" he repeated, speaking very precisely, and Ford whooshed out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and continued on down the hallway towards McKay's quarters. Halling followed after a moment, wondering at the odd response. "I also heard her mention a piece of clothing she called a 'teddy' and I was hoping you could show me how to wear such an item. I am trying to find a gift for Teyla and thought something from Earth might be appropriate." Ford almost tripped, he looked back so suddenly at Halling.

"That might be something you should discuss with ummm, one of the, uhhh, female staff members," he said, a flush showing dark red on his brown skin. Halling decided to change the subject before he made Ford any more upset.

"Is Dr. McKay often late for meetings?" he asked.

"He gets kinda wrapped up in his work, but I checked his lab and he's not there. It's unusual for both him and the major to be late though, but Kavanaugh's decided to throw a hissy and with Dr. Weir gone, we need one of them."

Stopping outside Dr. McKay's quarters, he sighed and then knocked briskly. There was no answer. He chewed on his lip a minute. Making up his mind he hammered on the door again, calling the doctor at the same time. Still nothing.

Then the door quivered slightly and opened a crack. Ford peered through the crack and saw McKay's head, his hair dark with sweat, and Sheppard's black combat boots at the foot of the bed. Both men appeared to be unconscious. Cursing, he shoved the door the rest of the way open, tapping his com open.

"I need a medical team in Dr. McKay's quarters immediately!" Ford snapped as he checked the major for a pulse while Halling dealt with Dr. McKay.

"Understood," came Beckett's resigned brogue, with just a hint of exasperation. "What seems to be the problem this time, Lieutenant?"

"The major and Dr. McKay are both unconscious. There are no visible wounds."

"Any Ancient devices in the room with them?" The exasperation had left Beckett's voice. Ford scanned the cluttered room quickly.

"I don't see anything new, but the doc's room is full of all kinds of crap."

"We're on our way, Lieutenant."

"What is the matter with them?" asked Halling, obviously wondering if this was yet another strange Earth custom.

"I have no idea, but it doesn't look good," They were both breathing, though Major Sheppard's respiration had a strange snoring quality that made Ford nervous. McKay roused, disoriented, his short brown hair plastered to his head with sweat and distastefully shoved Sheppard's boots out of his face.

"What are you doing in here, Lieutenant?" he demanded feebly, struggling to breathe. Beckett and his team came pouring into the room behind Ford.

"What have ye done, now, Rodney?" said Beckett sounding relieved and annoyed at the sight of the scientist awake. Then he saw Sheppard, head tipped at an odd angle, motionless.

"Major Sheppard, can ye hear me?" he asked rapidly as he shone a penlight into Sheppard's unseeing hazel eyes. "He's unresponsive; get him on the gurney and back to the infirmary stat." Beckett's concerned blue eyes turned on McKay next.

"Carson," McKay gasped, "I'm having trouble breathing." Beckett flipped McKay's shirt up to his embarrassment.

"There's no sign of trauma, Rodney," he said, frowning in puzzlement.

"Fine," snapped McKay, the veins in his neck standing out a little as he fought for air, "just wait til I asphyxiate."

"Ye're just as much of an obnoxious bastard as ye ever are," sighed Beckett wearily, then he looked closely at the pale skin and saw just the faintest hint of purpling at the edge of his ribcage. Beckett shook his head and gestured for the second gurney. "I dinna know what ye two have gotten yerselves into this time," he said, glaring at McKay, "but I have a feeling I'm not going to like it."


	4. Dream A Little Dream of Me

Part Four – Dream a Little Dream of Me

Dimly he heard a beeping sound. It could be his alarm clock, he thought hazily, but it didn't sound quite right. His alarm clock tended to get louder and louder until it got turned off, but this was a slow, steady beep. Which meant he didn't need to wake up yet, and he squirmed more comfortably down into the bed.

"That is truly unfair," a familiar sarcastic voice complained. "Why do I have to wake up every two hours and yet he gets to sleep through the whole thing?" Sheppard couldn't help himself; he grinned and opened his eyes to see McKay indignantly ranting at some poor nurse. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and noticed Sheppard's eyes were open.

"Dr. Beckett," she called over her shoulder. "Major Sheppard is awake." McKay turned to look at him and Sheppard stared at the huge fat lip he now sported. McKay scowled back.

"Your own pretty boy image is in severe danger, though you do have that angsty hero look working pretty hard," McKay snarked back, but Sheppard could hear the relief in his voice.

"The hair is ok though, right?" and Sheppard would have laughed out loud at the disgusted snort from McKay, except that would have meant he passed out from the pain. Beckett was already there in his line of sight in seconds with the laser light he used to check for pupil dilation. He smiled, pleased with Sheppard's reactions.

"Quite a little scare ye gave us there, Major," he said as he continued checking Sheppard over. McKay had scooted off the bed and into a wheelchair he rolled up next to Sheppard.

"Nice black eye," he commented, tilting his head to get just the right angle.

"Yeah, well I really like the collagen treatment on your lips there, they're so pouty and plump. So, uh, what happened?" Sheppard asked, trying to sound casual and just sounding croaky instead. Beckett hastily offered a cup of ice chips and then turned to add something to the IV trailing down a pole into Sheppard's arm.

McKay looked both relieved and a little desperate at the question. "You, uh, you don't remember either huh?"

"Tha's too bad," Beckett said, an expression crossing his face that Sheppard couldn't exactly define. "We were hoping perhaps ye could shed some light on exactly how the two of ye managed to sustain a serious concussion and skull fracture, sprained ankle, pneumothorax and multiple contusions and abrasions, and what appears, strangely enough, to be some kind of carpet burn, all without ever leaving Atlantis!" As the litany of injuries had grown, Beckett's voice had grown strident and the brogue thicker. McKay scowled at him.

"Nice bedside manner there, Carson."

The physician's weary, stubbled face flushed, and he turned on his heel, muttering in what John thought could be Gaelic. McKay watched until he disappeared into his office and then leaned in.

"We've got to get our story straight," he hissed, looking back over his shoulder nervously for Beckett's return. Sheppard blinked at him blearily. His head wasn't hurting so much since Beckett had added the magic juice to his IV, but he felt tired, so very, very tired still.

"Major!"

His eyes flew open and the blood roared in his ears.

"Well I'm sorry, Rodney, but I haven't GOT a story to get straight, since I have no idea what happened!"

"Let me give you the Cliff notes version, I'm sure you're familiar with those, or were they too challenging?" said McKay nastily. He was always snottiest when he was nervous and this level of sardonicism didn't bode well for whatever they'd been doing when they got hurt, Sheppard reflected, starting to feel a little nervous himself. "You blackmailed me into jacking your juvenile form of meatball sport into an Ancient device. You and I got trapped inside and got the crap beat out of us. Any of this ringing a bell?"

Unfortunately, it was. A great big honkin' huge bell, kind of like the one inside his head. Sheppard put a hand over his eyes.

"So what does Carson know?"

McKay grimaced. "I've held him off so far, but I'm not sure how much longer he's going to buy the "it's all a blur" line."

"We're gonna have to tell him." The expected protest didn't come and he dropped his hand from over his eyes. McKay sat slumped in the wheelchair looking glum.

"I know," he said, looking dispirited and tired. Sheppard took a deep breath, McKay started wringing his hands, and then they called Beckett back and McKay began to explain.

"The major found a room last week with exercycles in them, well, they're not really exercycles, they just look like them, but anyway, it was pretty obvious that they weren't Ancient hamster wheels so we figured they might be something like a hologram or shared virtual reality."

"Exercycles?" Beckett repeated after McKay.

"They just looked like exercycles, Carson, they're really a virtual reality port."

"Virtual reality port exercycles?" Beckett echoed, sounding faintly bewildered.

"Just forget about the damn exercycles, Carson!" McKay finally exploded. "We jacked the major's football game into the virtual reality but then we got stuck inside. There must be some kind of safety mechanism that I unintentionally deactivated. Of course, anytime you're trying to jump between our technology and the Ancients there's no telling how well the interface is going to work…" His words were cut off by Beckett.

"D'ya mean to tell me," he said slowly, eyes going back and forth between them, that the two of ye, deliberately hooked yourselves into some Ancient device ye knew nothing aboot and ye niver even told anyone where ye were?" Sheppard reflected idly that if Beckett kept rolling his rs like that his tongue would get tied up in a knot. Then his attention was snapped back as a furious, red-faced Beckett continued. "There're jist too bluidy few of us left," he said, pinning both of them with furious blue eyes. "Gaul, Abrams, Miller, Demais, and for the two of ye ta risk your lives for some damfool bloody American game! Ye couldn't pick somethin' safe like, like… picking daisies or something!"

"I'm more of a daffodil man myself…" Sheppard's smartass remark fell flat before the expression on Beckett's face.

"It was stupid and careless," he fumed, "and we coulda lost ye both." He glared at each of them and then stomped off. They sat in stunned silence for a moment.

"Wow," said McKay after a moment in a subdued voice. "I don't think I've ever seen Carson quite that angry. Do you think he's going to tell Weir?"

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Gee Spanky, you think Mom'll ground us?"

McKay sighed. "Yeah, me too." After a few moments, Beckett came back.

"Now gentlemen," he said in a determinedly cheerful tone, "since ye're both going to be with us for a while, I suggest ye get familiar wi'some of the responsibilities ye'll be assuming in your future days off," and he plunked down a bedpan on the table next to Sheppard and handed one to McKay, who looked at it in horror.

"Carson, I really don't think this is necessary…" and McKay's voice trailed off uncertainly under the laserbeam glare of bright blue Scottish eyes and the accent when he spoke again had thickened back up like pudding with a skin on top.

"Unless ye want me ta inform Elizabeth of exactly how bluidy foolish tha two of ye have been, I strongly encourage ye to comply with whatever I ask of ye." McKay swallowed, looked down at the bedpan, and nodded.

"Good," said Beckett with satisfaction. He turned to the two nurses who were standing at the entrance. "And now fer yer bedbaths." He grinned maliciously down into both of their dismayed faces, and strode nonchalantly out of the infirmary.

"Now if that doesn't teach them a lesson, I don't know what will," he said to Ford and Teyla, who were waiting anxiously outside the infirmary door.

"You are certain they are all right?" asked Teyla, her eyes intent on Beckett. At the sound of the violent protests coming from behind him, Beckett pulled the door closed and smiling said, "Not yet, but they will be."


End file.
